


Someone stop my hands from shaking

by Abbie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 2x10, Episode Tag, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/pseuds/Abbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity goes outside to get some air after her argument with Oliver, and Diggle makes sure Oliver's blows didn't land closer to home than intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone stop my hands from shaking

**Author's Note:**

> It's always bugged me the way season 2 has only dealt with Queen family guilt over the Undertaking's partial success--especially Oliver's. With that thought in mind, Oliver's comments about Felicity dropping the ball and being distracted seemed even more cruelly pointed, to me, than he probably meant them to be.
> 
> And I've always loved the idea that Digg and Felicity bonded big time while Oliver was off feeding his angst.

Felicity burst out the back door of Verdant into the chill night air, the grit of the employee parking lot crunching under her boots as she stalked a few steps into the night.

Stopping, she planted her hands on her hips and tipped her head back, drawing in a shuddering breath, holding it for three, and then blowing it out, slow and shaky. Lifting her eyes to the clouded, dark sky, she blinked back the sting of tears—of hurt, of frustration, of shame and guilt. And anger.

She swallowed thickly, chin dropping towards her chest as her fingers tapped out a restless beat against her hipbones.

The door behind her opened with a metallic creak, and Felicity’s every muscle tensed, her nerve endings snapping like live wires. Jaw clenching, she shifted a toe and looked over her shoulder, bracing to see Oliver, spoiling for more of a fight.

It was both relief and strange disappointment to see Diggle standing there instead. Much as she didn’t want to take Oliver’s verbal punches right now—which, she suspected, hit much closer to home than he actually realized—she was pissed enough to want an excuse to give as good as she got.

Eyes catching John’s, she swallowed the angry barb perched on the back of her tongue like a drop of citric acid.

He stood just under the dome of light shed by the bulb over the employee exit door, hands in his pockets and posture carefully open and neutral. “You alright?” he asked quietly.

Felicity pursed her lips, turned away. “I’m fine, Digg. I just needed some air.”

"You know he didn’t mean that shit, Felicity."

She snorted, bitter, the acid rising up her throat again, curling in her chest. “Didn’t he? And anyways, even if he didn’t, he’s the one who needs to say it. Don’t apologize for him, John, or the idiot will never learn to do it himself.”

Behind her, John’s eyebrows raised and head shook at her brittle tone. “Hey. I’m not apologizing for him. Kid’s got perfectly good vocal cords, if an occasionally faulty brain. He can handle that himself, when he’s done being a dick.” Felicity chuckled, though it still wasn’t happy. Digg stepped closer, drawing even and bumping her shoulder with his bicep. “I’m talking to _you_. He didn’t mean that shit. It wasn’t true, and he knows that.”

Surprisingly, she deflated instead of getting her back up higher. Shoulders falling, she sighed, hands slipping to wrap around her waist. “Digg… I did mess up, though. It was _my_ job. I messed up, and I lost our guy and could’ve gotten Oliver hurt.” Her spine straightened a little suddenly, and Diggle tucked away a smile. “I mean, he was still a complete ass, but he wasn’t… wrong, entirely.”

It was John’s turn to scoff. “Yes he was. None of us is perfect, Felicity. We all fuck up. We all learn new things and get curveballs thrown at us. We make mistakes. It’s not a blame game. It’s _life_.” He dropped a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “This isn’t on you.”

Felicity squeezed her arms tighter around herself, seemingly trying to become smaller. In a tiny, sad voice, she said, “I already fucked up big on the job once, Digg. It cost… _five hundred and three people_ their lives. You can say this isn’t a blame game all you want, and I can be mad at Oliver for being an asshat about—about it, and about Barry, because _he’s_ never been ‘distracted’ by a romantic interest in his life, _oh_ no—” she abruptly cut off, eyes sliding closed on a silent countdown, scaling back the heat in her voice. Hissing her breath from between her teeth, she turned her head to stare into the shadows off by the dumpsters. “…But what if this miss is the next big one? What if me not… _having my head in the game_ the way Oliver’s expecting me to means another handful of hundreds of people die? And it’s on me. Again.”

Digg sighed, long and almost meditative, from his nose. Suddenly, he could about punch Oliver in the face. Stupid kid probably didn’t even realize how much weight of the summer’s losses Felicity had taken upon her own shoulders. She and John had talked about it all at length over those long five months, but he just couldn’t seem to get Felicity to get her claws out of the idea that Merlyn’s plan half working was down to her not figuring out there’d be a second device.

On good days, he thought he’d helped her at least accept that she’d done everything she _could_ have, given her experience and their limited time. On bad days, he could see it still eating her up inside in the way she chewed her lips and worked too-long hours in the foundry after too-long days in Oliver’s office. He wondered if she was still having the nightmares.

Clenching his jaw and squeezing Felicity’s shoulder again, Digg said at last, “So we don’t let this guy win. We don’t let Oliver just be an ass—which, nicely handled by the way, good on you—and we don’t let him be right. We step up. We take this guy down.” He looked down at her, her chin set stubbornly  and lips pressed tight. “You with me?”

Hesitating only a second, she nodded sharply, lifting her gaze to his. There was stubbornness and determination there—and quiet thanks.

He smiled fondly down at her, hand slipping between her shoulder blades to guide her back to the door. “Then let’s go get our man.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Splashdown's Ironspy.


End file.
